You & Me Page 3

  “And they lived happily ever after, right?”

  “Oh yeah. All Blake Lincoln’s books have a happy ending. He’s so amazing. And kinda hot too. I mean for an old guy. And, Austin is just like the perfect guy. I wish there were guys like him in my school.”

  Josie sighed and I guessed the boy she liked fell out of her favor. I didn’t press the issue. I just said, “I’ve heard of Blake Lincoln, but I’ve never seen him.”

  “I’ll show you the book.” Josie retreated to her room and returned with a thick, trade-sized novel. A bubble gum pink candy heart with the saying Crazy for You graced the cover. She held it out to me. “Inside cover.”

  I was so thrilled Josie was actually having a conversation with me that didn’t include sarcasm, eye rolling or just general nastiness that it took me a second to realize what I was glancing at on the inside cover. I gasped when the recognition hit me. Blake Lincoln did not stare out at me from the author photo. Billy Leibowitz did. Those soft brown eyes, like the richest cup of hot chocolate, stared at me from behind stylish, black Wayfarer-style frames. He was the epitome of the sexy, “geek chic” trend. His jet-black hair was threaded with silver at the temples, giving him a distinguished air. The “business in the front, party in the back” mullet he had all those years ago had been replaced by close cropped sides and a flip at the top—a change that only made him more alluring. I just wanted to run my hands through his still thick hair. Plus, there were those dimples framing a sexy smile. And the perfect amount of scruff. It all was so familiar—a few crinkles around the eyes, yes; and the glasses were new, but it was absolutely Billy.

  “What? Why’d you gasp like that? You always overreact to everything. The book is fine. It’s not inappropriate or anything—you’re always saying stuff is inappropriate when it’s not.”

  “That’s not Blake Lincoln,” I stammered.

  “What? Yes, it is. Look at the cover. Blake Lincoln.”

  “No, I mean, that’s not really Blake Lincoln. That’s Billy Leibowitz, my first boyfriend. He was my high school sweetheart. Half of college too. Blake Lincoln must be his pen name.”

  “You can’t be serious. I doubt Blake Lincoln would have gone out with you. He probably just looks like him. I mean when was the last time you saw your old boyfriend? I bet he’s fat and bald now.”

  “I’m telling you, Josie, that’s him. I’d know his face anywhere. I spent five years staring at it. And then he was my best friend for another three years before your father made me cut ties with him.” I shook my head sadly. “Plus, he always sent me candy hearts. And, this makes perfect sense. That was why I couldn’t find him anywhere. He goes by a pen name now and probably has to make sure that anywhere he’s on the internet, it’s under that name.”

  “I don’t know,” Josie said skeptically. “I just can’t imagine you with someone so…”

  “So what? Cool? I was cool once, you know.”

  “I was going to say hot.”

  “That’s a little disturbing, but okay, I’ll agree. He is hot—still.” I gazed at the photo. I couldn’t fathom how one person could age so well. Maybe it was Photoshop magic.

  I wasn’t entirely sure how I missed that photo before—how I never realized that Blake Lincoln was my long lost love, Billy. I used to thumb through every book Josie read, but once she hit high school I figured she was old enough to read just about anything. I read all my mom’s books when I was her age.

  Plus, I was just so happy Josie was spending her allowance at the little bookstore in our town—one of the few remaining—I didn’t question what she bought. I felt like as long as it was in the YA section, it was fine with me. I never believed in censoring what kids could read anyway. The internet was a completely different story. She could get into way more trouble there than with any printed page. I often looked over her shoulder when she was on her phone or laptop, a habit that infuriated her. “I don’t know how I never realized this before. But, I’m absolutely certain it’s him.”

  I grabbed my phone and Googled Blake Lincoln. There were over a million results in 0.45 seconds. I wondered again how I didn’t know what Billy had become. Except that perhaps I was too busy trying to just survive as a single mom and take care of my kid. I didn’t read celebrity news or anything. I wasn’t on Twitter or Instagram and it wasn’t like he was going to show up on my Facebook news feed.

  Regardless of my ignorance of Blake Lincoln, he was all over the internet: holding a puppy, at the beach, on the red carpet. Apparently, two of his books were made into movies. He looked so good in a tux—even better than at our prom. The boy I knew had grown up to be an incredible man and I was so proud of him.

  “That’s definitely Billy,” I told Josie.

  She just stared at me for a moment, probably processing how her incredibly dorky mother was ever involved with someone like him. When she spoke, there was a tinge of awe to her voice. “Can you introduce me to him?”

  “I haven’t seen him in twenty years. I’ve looked for him, but I guess Billy Leibowitz doesn’t exist any more. And, I don’t know if Blake Lincoln would even want to see me.” I sighed. “I loved him a lot, you know. He was my best friend from the time I was fifteen, and then your father…” I didn’t want to speak ill of Trent to Josie, even though he damn near destroyed me. It was bad enough that I took her and fled. I didn’t need to rub salt in that old wound and make it worse. “Well, he didn’t like him.”

  “I know there were a lot of things he didn’t like, including me.” Josie picked at her glittery black nail polish, leaving tiny sparkly chips on the carpet, like fragments of black diamonds.

  “Please, don’t ever say that, Josie! He loved you. He just didn’t show it very well.”

  “He put me down all the time, and he never answered the letters I sent him, even though he had my email.”

  “I’m so sorry he hurt you. If I could have done anything differently, I would have. But, I never regret being with him. I wouldn’t have you now if I wasn’t and you’re the best gift ever.”

  Of course that got a big eye roll. “You don’t have to get dramatic. I’m fine.” And, she was back to her aloof self. But, she’d opened up for a moment and that was enough for me.

  “Do you think Billy, I mean Blake, sent the candy hearts?” I asked, changing the subject. I’d never get used to calling Billy “Blake”. He’d always be Billy to me.

  “I don’t know. I mean it does seem a lot like the book. You even were in California and came back here, even though it wasn’t your dad who took you. That’s really cool that you know him and that he may have sent the hearts to you, just like Austin sent the hearts to Natasha.”

  “Yes, it is really cool,” I said with a smile, hoping that the next day would bring another box and add another piece to the puzzle. It had to be Billy—who else could it be? And, Josie was right; I did leave and move to California. Billy could have picked anywhere else to write about. Plus, the father was abusive. I’m sure Billy may have heard how Trent treated me. Trent was practically old enough to be my father. I so wanted to believe Billy wrote that book as a way to rewrite our ending. As a way to cast us as teenagers even though we were so far from that world now.

  I spent about three hours online learning all about Blake Lincoln after Josie went to sleep. His bio stated he lives on the North Shore of Long Island looking over the water and his favorite thing to do, besides writing, is spend time on his boat. It didn’t mention anything about a wife or children. It did say he lived with his rescued pit bull, Shakespeare.

  For a moment I daydreamed about hanging out at the dog park watching our fur babies play. Billy was the reason I loved pitties and the reason I rescued Hank. He had the sweetest pit bull he rescued from a dogfighting ring when we were teenagers, Bella. She was used as a bait dog and was missing her ear and part of her jaw. Despite everything she went through, she was so affectionate and grateful; I fell in love with the breed. A week after we moved back here, Josie and I went to the town animal shelt
er and found Hank. He looked so stern and serious with his cropped ears and his big blockhead, but he was a giant mush. He cried when we stood in front of his cage, trembling with the anticipation of getting out. As soon as the door opened, he slobbered all over us, his whole butt wiggling in happiness. I knew he was ours.

  Knowing Billy had a rescued pit bull, made me feel so connected to him again. Silly as it may be, I felt like he was the same person I remembered. He didn’t have some fancy designer dog bought from a breeder now that he was a famous author. I just knew that he was still the same sweet boy he was as a kid.

  As I scrolled through the images of Billy I tried to remember why I broke up with him. My forty-year-old self cringed at the memory. I felt like he was too nice. He didn’t challenge me, he simply loved me and I took it for granted. I thought drama equaled true love. Billy was so easy going; we never fought. We laughed way more than we cried. We finished each other’s sentences. But, he was like my brother and I just couldn’t get past that. I thought I needed someone exotic, someone the opposite of me to really live. I didn’t want to grow up and just be with my best friend. He was like the proverbial boy next door, even though he lived five minutes away.

  Trent was everything Billy wasn’t. I couldn’t take him for granted, because even though he put me on a pedestal, he never let me forget that he could easily knock me off it. He was a challenge. He was all dark broodiness, while Billy was all sweetness and light. I was so profoundly stupid. Thank God I got an amazing daughter out of that relationship, because otherwise I would have hated myself forever for choosing so unwisely.

  Back then I figured no one meets their husband at fifteen. At least they shouldn’t. I tried to imagine Josie dating someone now whom she would eventually marry and I couldn’t. She seemed way too immature. But, then again so was I. I was too immature to appreciate that being showered with love is not suffocating—it’s healthy and someone who finds every flaw in you and rips you to shreds doesn’t equal excitement. It’s simply exhausting and sad.

  Chapter Five

  I felt like I had discovered a long-lost treasure scrolling through Billy’s photos, reviews, interviews and all of his social media, especially his social media. He was funny, irreverent, smart and of course gorgeous. He had well over a million followers on Twitter and even more fans on Facebook—or at least Blake Lincoln had all of that. I wondered for a moment if Blake was a facade or he really was Billy. There could be some recent college grad tweeting and posting statuses for him. But, that humor, that generosity of spirit. It looked like he answered every tweet, replying to teenage girls with fifty followers as often as he replied to the actors in his movies or even to other celebrities who tweeted him.

  Where had I been that I missed all of this? Surely if I had seen a photo of Blake Lincoln, I would have known he was Billy. I had heard of him, but not being a teenage girl, I never knew what he looked like. I grabbed Josie’s book, curled up in a chair and read. I finished it at 4:07 a.m. with a satisfied sigh. Austin and Natasha reunited—she was free from the chains of her past, her abusive father. I just knew her father represented Trent. I also knew Billy sent the hearts.

  I went onto Facebook and liked Blake Lincoln’s page, after changing my profile picture to one that showed a little cleavage. A girl’s gotta use what she’s got, I decided. If I had a Twitter account, I would follow him too. Maybe I’d set one up in the morning. I also went to his website and signed up for his newsletter. There. Now he knew I knew who he really was. The ball was in his court.

  I almost overslept in the morning. That alarm going off at 6:30 a.m. sucked after two hours of sleep and I hit snooze twice. I stumbled out of bed twenty minutes late and woke Josie. “Get up, Sunshine. It’s almost seven. I’ll drive you to school again.”

  After pouring Josie a bowl of cereal and throwing on my clothes from the day before, I glanced at my phone. My heart stopped. There was a Facebook message from Blake Lincoln. All I saw from the preview was, So, you found me. I’ve been waiting for you to figure it out.

  I glanced at the time. I had to take Josie right that minute, or she’d be late. I couldn’t read the rest of the message until after I dropped her off. Agony. “Come on, Jos. We need to leave right now,” I practically screeched. The quicker I got her there, the quicker I could read Blake’s message.

  “Okay, Mom. Don’t have a stroke. I just have to get my books.”

  “You don’t want to have to sign in again,” I said, a bit louder than I needed to.

  “I said, don’t have a stroke. Seriously, I’ll be ready in a minute. Go start the car. It’s freezing out.”

  “Fine.” She was right. It was freezing. The blast of February air hit me like a sharp, stinging slap. I turned on the car and waited for that little temperature gauge needle to move far enough for me to blast the heat. While I waited for Josie I tapped the password into my phone and clicked on Facebook messages. I was about to read Blake’s message when Josie slid into the car.

  “Okay, let’s go,” she snapped. “You told me to hurry and now you’re sitting on your phone.”

  “Sorry, I got a message from Billy, I mean Blake Lincoln.”

  “What?” Josie yelled. “Blake Lincoln sent you a message?”

  “Yes, I told you—he’s my old boyfriend. Do you believe me now?”

  “Ohmigod.” Josie said it as one word.

  “Read it!”

  “No, you’re right. We need to go. You’ll be late for school.” I turned the heat to full blast. The warmth felt comforting.

  “I don’t care. Just read it.”

  “Fine.” I opened the message. The heat blowing on my face combined with the anticipation of what the message might say made me feel faint for a moment. I took a deep breath and glanced down. So, you found me. I’ve been waiting for you to figure it out. Did you like the candy hearts? I know it’s been years since you came home and I could have gotten in touch sooner, but for one reason or another the time never seemed right. But now I think it is. May I see you?

  I turned to Josie. “He wants to see me.”

  “Holy crap. Blake Lincoln wants to see my mother.”

  “Yes, your old mom isn’t as much of a dork as you thought she was. In fact, I think that book you love so much, Crazy for You, was a message to me. It’s not a coincidence that Natasha was in California.”

  “I can’t believe you’re Natasha. That much I don’t buy. Sorry. Can I meet him? Pleeeaase?” Josie drew out the please and gave me a look that I remembered from when she was little and would beg for a new Barbie or extra dessert.

  I missed that look terribly, so I said, “Okay. But, I’ll see him first and then introduce him to you. I promise.”

  I felt like I needed to see him alone first, because I knew Josie would freak out and bring teen girl drama and histrionics to the moment. Not that I didn’t love my daughter. I had an image in my mind of my first reunion with Billy and it didn’t involve my sixteen year old. It did, however, involve lips, tongues and maybe some other body parts.

  “Okay, Miss Josie, you need to go to school now. Don’t tell anyone about Billy, all right?”

  “Are you crazy? Of course I’m going to tell my friends. I won’t tell the ‘popular’ girls,” she said popular with air quotes. “They’re too stupid to read books and wouldn’t even care.”

  “Josie, you can’t tell people his real name. Please. It seems like he’s worked very hard to shed that part of him—or perhaps he’s worked hard to keep that part of him private. Whatever it is, he’s only out there as Blake, not Billy. So, don’t tell anyone he’s really Billy Leibowitz and he grew up here. Please.”

  Josie was silent.

  “Okay, if you tell anyone, I won’t introduce you to him. You can tell your friends that your mom is old friends with Blake Lincoln and that’s it.”

  “Fine.”

  When Josie got out of the car at school she actually said, “I love you.” I knew it was because she wanted to meet Billy, but I didn’t
care.

  When I got home I wrote back to Billy and told him I loved the candy hearts and that I’d love to see him, but I’d have to call him Billy, not Blake. Old habits die hard, I added in a second message.

  He wrote back right away. You can call me whatever you want. Blake is such a stupid name anyway. My agent made me change it. She said Blake Lincoln would appeal more to my teenage girl demographic than Billy Leibowitz. I was desperate to sell my book. She had been shopping it for a while with no bites. I only got the agent, because I had worked for that magazine, if you remember, and I met her through the editor. That was just luck. But, selling the book took a complete image overhaul—it didn’t matter if it was good, they wanted a brand they could market. And smooth, sophisticated Blake Lincoln fit the bill much better than goofy, kinda nerdy Billy Leibowitz.

  I loved goofy, kinda nerdy Billy Leibowitz, I typed back.

  Yeah, sometimes I mourn his loss, but I promise I’ll try my best to get you to love Blake too. Actually, even better, I can still be Billy with you. I’m sick of being someone I’m not for everyone. I can’t wait to just be myself with you.

  As I read Billy’s message, parts of me that had been sleeping for a very long time, woke up—my heart for one. And a southern region that hadn’t seen any action for years, except maybe a little self-love here and there.

  I could get to know Blake, if you want, I typed. Or I could just welcome the old Billy back into my life. Maybe have a drink or two with him. Or maybe an ice cream. You can decide who you are.

  I think I’ll be Billy, and ice cream is perfect. Would you like to meet later today? I don’t mean to sound over-anxious, but honestly, I just really want to see you.

  I wrote back right away. I can meet you after work at 12:30. Today’s my short day. Should we meet at our favorite place? They have inside tables in winter, but we can sit outside if you want. I was grateful that our old spot—our favorite ice cream stand, a town institution, stayed open for the winter. Not many people ventured there, but they served scoops even through the most frigid months, thanks to a few cozy tables inside the tiny building. They left the wood tables out all winter, so perhaps we could sit at our favorite weathered wood perch, our initials silvered with age, but still there. I checked them periodically, whenever I took Josie for a cone. Not as often as I would like; the older she got, the less often she wanted to go for ice cream, even in the summer.